#idk i’m just confused

[aceftw]

I just recently started stardew valley and do I NEED to get a coop like the quest is telling me to?

Also an earthquake happened but what do i do about that?

[recareels]

how does boothill use his phone if his fingers are metal?????

my boyfriend says maybe he has heat sensors in his fingertips 🤔🤔🤔

[littlenightmares2]

girl the way little nightmares haven’t even acknowledged tson winning a webby and haven’t posted any LN3 content yet OR announced the enhanced edition. am i crazy

[moonmoonthecrabking]

seeing all the girl dinner Discourse pop up to me is so wild bc. i thought it was just eating enough snacks at once to constitute a meal when you hadn’t done your shopping. like leftover takeaway + a banana + a cupcake you bought at a bake sale yesterday. not a cute charcuterie board you eat nothing off to eat nothing while still having dinner.

[writerdownacross]

Okay, putting on my black, non shipper hat for a second and holding it tight. WHY are Buck and Eddie’s romantic relationships written LIKE THAT (long post incoming)

Why does it seem like the writers just can’t write Buck or Eddie a decent relationship with anyone but themselves? The only *real* development they have as people is when they are either in conflict with each other or dealing with something in their personal lives while the other is there for them as a rock.

Because the 911 writers KNOW how to write good relationship arcs. We love Bathena and Henren and Madney for a reason. And the individuals in those relationships also dea with hard times like we’re shone - they’re not perfect at all. So you can’t say that it’s a matter of them being more mature or more grounded than Buck or Eddie

But for SOME reason, they (seem to) fail each and every time they put either character with someone that’s not each other.

TV procedurals do not leave relationships like this generally- at least in my experience. If either Buck or Eddie were going to have a relationship with someone romantically that either wasn’t the right time or needed time apart to develop, they would’ve introduced those characters seasons ago. They would have had us seeing them pop in and out, be mentioned by other members of the team, be rescued from

We can’t even say they’re writing these characters single or straight. Both Buck and Eddie WANT love. They’ve made this explicitly clear over and over again.

But they introduce love interests who have little to no chemistry with these men. Like Lucy is the only one I could see Buck being with chemistry wise, but he clearly thinks of their kids as a mistake. And she’s basically fem!Buck.

So if they are keeping Buck and Eddie as best friends that happen to be overly involved in each other’s lives and biggest emotional moments and periods of breaking to grow, and no one else, not even other members of their very close knit community is privy to those moments, what’s the plan here?

Will they retcon all of Buck’s personal growth by making him sift through person after person trying to find THE ONE? Will Eddie just finally be okay with the ready made family in Marisol or whoever because that’s how they want to write his growth from therapy?

​What happens when they introduce someone to Eddie’s life and they set them up to build that amount of trust that Buck has with him and Chris? Does Buck get thrown to the wayside? Because I don’t know any partner that would be cool with a best friend being able to adopt someone they’ve come to see as a child. Eddie would DEFINITELY have to change his will which would just be…horrible really.

Idk this is just stream of consciousness thinking for me but if not Buddie endgame, then what??? What’s been the point of all these seasons?

[rowanhoney]

Man Americans weird me out so much

[gregmarriage]

kicked out of the being normal for being a fag <3

[thekeythief]

[twinstxrs]

so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Okay okay okay.. but listen. What if Shen Yuan had a harsher System and was forced to convincingly play Shen Qingqiu, making Luo Binghe detest his existence, but when Luo Binghe returns from the abyss to enact his revenge and has Shen Qingqiu on trial at Huan Hua, unfortunately for everyone (and fortunately for us), they drug Shen Qingqiu with truth serum and accidentally spiral Shen Yuan into fanboy rampage of epic proportions about how great Luo Binghe is.

[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: mentions of being on birth control, mention of maybe getting pregnant, scent kink

have you guys ever heard of like…..being attracted to someone’s smell which means you’ll pair together really well??? and there have been cases where people get off birth control and it intensifies the smell and either makes it completely unbearable or even fucking better for the person??? okay THAT but with Bakugou…….,,,

you’re on birth control for whatever reason, and you’ve always pretty much liked his smell. it’s always been distant scents of caramel, a little sharp twang of spice whenever he comes home sweaty. and usually, you’ll let him chase you around the house while you laugh about him needing a shower because he stinks—but it’s all in jest.

and maybe, after a couple years of being with him, you get off of it for whatever reason—you wanna get pregnant, or it’s not serving you anymore, or you just don’t wanna be on it for any longer. and there’s—there’s a certain shift in the air whenever you’re around him.

you feel like a fuckin cat in heat when you stand near him, always pressing your face against the slickest parts of his skin. your nose buried in his palms, pressing sweet and gentle kisses to the hardened skin.

and Bakugou doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on with you, or why you always want to lay in his armpit, but he doesn’t complain much. even when he catches you huffing his dirty workout tanks and wearing his already worn boxers around the house.

but you can’t help it!! you just wanna bathe in his scent—now slick and honeyed and cinnamon—until you pass out from forgetting to exhale. and you’re such a perv about it that he can’t help but tease you—for licking the sweat from his collarbones whenever he’s on top of you. for inhaling where his scent lays stronger on the skin beneath his balls. for burying your nose in his pits whenever he stretches in the morning.

calls you his sick little pervert, getting off to his sweat, tells you how nasty you are for liking something so depraved. but your shame has abandoned you—all you care about and crave is his scent covering you in every way, shape, and form.

[emotinalsupportturtle]

I can’t stop thinking of how despite it baffling most non-brits, and most of the Hollywood a-list audience, David Tennant decided to do a skit on his little lockdown rpf show, make a bunch of puns that only people familiar with British culture would get, wear a kilt and be his usual manic self when hosting an internationally prestigious award show

fucking power move

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I’ve been doing some stream of consciousness thoughts re: Akechi and I think my final opinion on that whole situation is just… it sucks.

Like I’m not going to say “woe is he” or anything because boy, what are you doing. What the hell are you doing. You doomed yourself!!! Because of your own stupid pride!!! Akechi.

But I’m not going to say “cool motive still murder” either because. Can you imagine. Being that lonely and that hungry for anything resembling affection and pride in your person that you’d shatter yourself into pieces just to find a shard that they like best because you’ve grown up being told again and again that you are unwanted and unloveable as you are. Fundamentally. And all you have is this singular drive that makes you feel worse and worse about who you actually are inside so you double down on your fake image because at least fickle fame is better than nothing and it’s all you’re going to get at this point, but at the same time this drive is also the one thing you feel you’ve had any power to determine or enact, and you did it all yourself when the world expected nothing of value from you, so yeah, of course you’d pursue it harder to the point of violently self-destructing - only for that all to get wrenched away with “you never fooled me and I was just puppeteering you all along and I never needed you”, pulling the rug out from under your vengeful purpose, your autonomous image, and your starved core desire, all at once. And then your asshole dad’s twisted headspace image of you shoots you point blank.

He dooms himself because he thought he was already doomed. Caught up in a cycle of cruelty to both himself and others, that he saw no point in trying to escape from, and didn’t want to, because it would mean relinquishing the (it turns out) quite fragile image he’d painstakingly built up. He’s a product of his environment, which led to him making god-awful choices, which in turn trapped him in a worse environment. How many people have died here or become grievously injured as a result of it all.

What do I even do with this. It just all around sucks.

[chirpsythismorning]

The way fans on the st sub are almost all in agreement Nancy ending up with neither Jon nor Steve wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and how they can even come up with a sleuth of reasons as to why, honestly pretty valid and fair reasons, but then are absolutely gobsmacked when fans merely speculate something along those lines for El is, quite something.

[the-far-bright-center]

The weird feeling of being a longtime fan and realising that my own views of Anakin and Padme don’t seem to align with hardly anyone else’s these days… not even the current pro-Anidala side of tumblr fandom.